


Half-Crazies

by Run_of_the_mill



Series: Unhealthy Relationship: We're Terrible for Each Other [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creative license to a whole new level, Harry and Tom are scared for their future, Harry attracts all the crazies, Harry is not a nice man, I concur, I think Harry does too!, James be fuckin' with Harry's head, James is convinced Sirius will have a heart attack, Lots of pent-up frustration coming out, M/M, Physics can still kiss my arse, This is me taking a lot of liberties with shit, Tom Needs a Hug, Tom did not see that coming, Working through their shit, lots of OOC, messed up relationship, or 300
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/pseuds/Run_of_the_mill
Summary: Bill sighed in frustration next to Harry.“You attract all the crazies,” he hissed to Harry.“I most certainly do not,” Harry retorted, outraged that the redhead would even dare to suggest such a thing. Bill pursed his lips and gave a pointed look to the coffee table where Ron and Draco were sitting across from each other, playing a game of chess with such intensity, one would think their family honour depended on the outcome. Draco moved his queen so that she took Ron’s rook. The latter immediately adopted a triumphant expression as he took Draco’s unsuspecting queen with a, previously unassuming, bishop. Ron dropped into a dab for whatever reason and Draco grabbed a throw-pillow to attempt to smother the laughing ginger.





	Half-Crazies

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, this story just wouldn't leave me alone. :'( It forced me to write it. So, here you go. I hope this ties up a bit of the loose ends. I might write more installments if the fancy strikes me. But I make no promises. Enjoy, and please comment. I love to read what you think about my stories. It really helps me get better or strive to get better.

Harry popped a cherry tomato in his mouth as he watched Tom glare at Ginny. The lawyer hooked a finger in his tie-knot and pulled it free, tossing the tie to a nearby chair. His suit jacket followed soon after. He rolled his shirt-sleeves back before looking Ginny straight in the eye.

“Alright, bitch,” he declared. “Let’s do this.” Bill sighed in frustration next to Harry.

“You attract all the crazies,” he hissed to Harry.

“I most certainly do not,” Harry retorted, outraged that the redhead would even dare to suggest such a thing. Bill pursed his lips and gave a pointed look to the coffee table where Ron and Draco were sitting across from each other, playing a game of chess with such intensity, one would think their family honour depended on the outcome. Draco moved his queen so that she took Ron’s rook. The latter immediately adopted a triumphant expression as he took Draco’s unsuspecting queen with a, previously unassuming, bishop. Ron dropped into a dab for whatever reason and Draco grabbed a throw-pillow to attempt to smother the laughing ginger.

“This isn’t over yet, Weasel,” Draco shrieked. “My king’s still in the game!”

“Alright,” Harry conceded to Bill’s smug face, “I attracted _two_ crazies.” Bill rolled his eyes and brought his attention back to Tom and Ginny who were now dressed in frilly aprons and puttering about in Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen, angrily shouting to each other about how they each made apple pie better than their opponent. Hermione sat on the counter, cross-legged, behind them and was actively egging them on. Harry puckered his lips as if he had been forced to suck on a particularly sour lemon. Dammit, Bill was right, the git.

**Later…**

Tom sat in the passenger seat, silently fuming. Harry had a hard time restraining his laughter as the other man muttered mutinously about ‘crappy oven’ and ‘subpar ingredients’ and ‘tasted so much better’.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Harry said, “I thought your pie tasted much better.” Tom perked up at that, preening at the praise.

“Well that means a lot,” he said, “considering that your palate is much more refined than those Weasels’.” Harry refused to point out that, not even a few weeks ago, Tom had been complaining about Harry’s ‘unrefined palate’ as they sat across from each other in a fast-food joint. Tom had glowered at the burger Harry had gotten him as if the thing had personally offended his late grandmother. Draco snorted in the back-seat and Tom sent him a scowl via the rear-view mirror. The blond man held his hands up in surrender, smile still plastered on his face. Tom turned around and bared his teeth.

“Just in case you forgot,” he snapped at Draco, “I’m not the only one who lost tonight.”

“Weasel totally cheated!” Draco protested. “I just know he moved that bishop when I wasn’t looking. I swear it was nowhere near any position to have been able to take my queen like that.” It was Tom’s turn to snort. He turned back to the front and rummaged through Harry’s passenger-side compartment, eventually bringing a few tiny airplane bottles of liquor.

“Why do you even have these?” he asked Harry. The young man gave him a side-glance to see what he was talking about.

“From that trip I took with Ron to Italy,” he answered. “Most uncomfortable flight I’ve ever been on. I had to fly Economy to cater to Ron’s sensibilities. I swear, my ass never cursed me more. It still hurts just from the memory.” Tom quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Those,” Harry said, taking one of the bottles, “are because I thought they were cute. Also, they’re easier to hide from the police when I’m in the car.” He handed the bottle back to Tom who opened it and sniffed at the alcohol. Draco leaned to the front and picked another bottle from Tom’s lap and stared at it.

“Wait a second,” he said suddenly. “Does this mean we can’t take my brother’s private jet to go to Malta, next week?”

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe.” Draco made an incredibly disgusted face.

“Hoe, why do you insist on the lot of us getting along?” Draco demanded. “Tom and I so do not deserve this!” Tom, who had downed one of the bottles in one go and now had a pinched and disappointed look on his face, nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Harry,” he said. “This is beyond ridiculous. You know your little pleb friends will never get along with the two of us.” Harry glared at Tom.

“You may’ve forgotten,” he bit out, “but after Mr. Riddle went out of business, you used to live like a pleb too.” Tom looked like he had been slapped and, belatedly, Harry regretted his words as they had probably brought back some of Tom’s most painful memories.

After the Riddles had lost their fortune, Tom’s father had been unable to bear the failure and had taken his own life, leaving the six-year-old alone with his aged grand-parents. Grandpa and Grandma Riddle had been forced to find employment at their advanced age in order to be able to retain custody of Tom and meet their own needs. Unfortunately, finding work at seventy-something was incredibly hard and, had it not been for Harry, they might not have found anything at all and lost Tom to social services and the foster system. As it was, Harry and Tom had struck a friendship at school, when Tom had moved to London from Little Hangleton. Harry had brought the Riddles’ misfortune to James’ attention and had thrown a massive temper tantrum that had forced his father into giving the Riddles jobs as a concierge and a maid in one of his hotels. Modest though the employments were, they were enough to allow the Riddles to make ends meet and put Tom through law school. It also helped that Tom was a genius and had managed to earn himself full-scholarship and, later, a high-paying job as a member of the Potters’ legal team. Nevertheless, those were hard times in Tom’s life and Harry felt horrible for dredging old wounds.

Tom had turned away from him and was staring out the window, slowly opening bottle after bottle of cheap liquor and downing them in rapid succession. Harry opened his mouth to apologise, but nothing came out and he decided to focus on the road. Behind them, Draco was squirming in discomfort and, when Harry finally pulled up to Malfoy Manor’s main door, the blond man let out a sigh of relief and bolted out of the car. Harry watched enviously as he disappeared into the house, wishing he was not the one left alone with Tom’s dark mood. Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s older brother, stared from the doorway after the younger Malfoy’s hastily retreating back and sent a curious look towards Harry’s car. Harry stuck his head out the window and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ at the man, receiving an eye roll and a nod for his efforts, before shifting gears and driving away.

It was as they were pulling out of the Malfoys’ driveway that Tom finally turned back to Harry. He stared at the young man with a strange look in his eyes. Harry made to speak but was cut off by Tom’s hand suddenly on his crotch. He gave the lawyer a bewildered look and tried to say something but was, again, cut off by the sight of Tom bending over the gap between them and unzipping his jeans. The man made quick work of Harry’s underwear and was holding onto his cock in the blink of an eye. Harry let out a strangled groan as Tom attached his lips to the tip and suckled.

“What are y- _oh my god, yes,_ ” Harry moaned as Tom hollowed his cheeks and started to bob up and down his cock. He quickly parked the car because he was too young to die. Although, dying because of a blowjob might not be a bad way to go. Harry knotted his fingers in Tom’s hair but allowed him to take things at his own pace. Tom immediately pulled off and straddled Harry’s hips. He kissed the young man deep and filthy and Harry could taste a bit of pre-come on his tongue.

“Take me to your place,” he panted in Harry’s ear. “I want to do something different tonight. I want _you_ to fuck _me_.” He gave an extra hard roll of his hips against Harry’s and returned to the passenger seat. Harry stared at him in shock, arms still in the air where they had been positioned on Tom. The lawyer smirked and waited for Harry to move. When it became clear that Harry was having a hard time computing, Tom reached over and gave his cock a tug. The small burst of pleasure was enough to bring Harry back to reality and start the car up again. They were at Potter Mansion in record time and Harry was tugging a giggling Tom up to his rooms. He locked the door behind them and tossed the brunet into his bed, ripping at his waistcoat and the button-up shirt underneath. He bit at Tom’s nipples, making the lawyer moan in pleasure. Tom rocked his hips up to catch some friction on his crotch against Harry’s leg. Harry pushed their hips together and allowed Tom to rut against him. He pulled off Tom’s nipples and moved up to suck and bite at the junction of Tom’s neck. Tom moaned and squirmed, grabbing at Harry’s hair and shoulders and wrapping his long legs around the other man’s waist, not caring what he would say to Bellatrix if and when she saw what would, inevitably, turn into a hickey.

“Harry,” Tom whined, “ _uh_ … your mouth is too high.” Harry bit into his shoulder and smirked, going back to Tom’s nipples. He sucked and licked and pinched them until Tom was a moaning and whimpering mess and there was a wet spot on the front of his pants. Only then did he start kissing a path down Tom’s chest to that spot just above his crotch. He, slowly, undid Tom’s belt and zipper, pulled the pants and underwear all the way off and flipped him onto his stomach. Tom yelped at the sudden change in position and tried to flip back but Harry pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and the man stilled. Harry pulled Tom’s hips up so that he was lying face into Harry’s expensive duvet and ass in the air.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked, shivering slightly from being so exposed. Harry bit into one of his ass-cheeks and kissed it before nudging Tom’s legs apart so that his hole was exposed. He fished for lube in his bedside drawer and lathered his fingers with a generous amount, then bent down to give a filthy lick and a kiss to Tom’s virgin hole. Tom keened into the duvet when Harry plunged a finger in.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked, concerned. Tom nodded.

“It’s my first time,” he wheezed. “What did you expect? Not everyone can be as loose as you.” Harry pinched his lips and swallowed. This wasn’t the first time Tom had been vulgar and disrespectful and it wouldn’t be the last. And, honestly, Harry really had nothing to say to counter it. While Tom had remained mostly faithful (aside from Bellatrix, that is), Harry had slept around a lot and Tom was bound to be jealous and hurt. All the slut-shaming was simply Tom’s way of lashing out.

Harry had intended to do this hard and filthy, but Tom’s words and his shivering form convinced him otherwise. He turned Tom onto his back and put a pillow under his hips. The lawyer pushed his bangs back and peered at Harry curiously. Harry smiled at him and leaned down for a kiss.

“Let’s not fuck,” he said. Tom began to protest, but Harry cut him off. “I’m not saying no sex, idiot. I’m saying I want to make love.” Tom blinked at the words and stared at him incredulously. He pushed Harry off and started gathering his clothes and putting them back on. His shirt was ruined, so he quickly gave up on it and tossed it and the waistcoat aside. He walked into Harry’s closet and came out wearing a faded Viva La Vida Coldplay tour t-shirt Harry recognised as something Sirius had given him years ago.

“You don’t want to,” Harry said, a cold feeling settling in his stomach, as Tom pulled his loafers on. Tom stopped and sat on a plush chair, face in his hands. They both sat in silence for a while until Tom started shaking and Harry realised that he was crying softly into his hands.

“What is it?” Harry asked in a small voice, fearing the answer. “Did I- Did I do something wrong?” Tom gave a rather wet-sounding snort, confirming that he was indeed crying, and lowered his hands. His eyes were red from the cheap alcohol and the tears. Harry pulled his knees to his chest as he felt his eyes prickle with unshed tears.

“You don’t love me,” Tom whispered. “You don’t love me, so how _dare_ you suggest making love?” Harry bit his lower lip and swallowed. His chest tightened and he squeezed his legs closer to his chest.

“It already hurts like hell,” Tom continued, now crying angry tears, “when I just let you use me as some glorified sex toy. Like all I’ll ever be good for is sex. I feel like one of those disgusting bitches that sleep with their bosses for favors. It makes me feel so fucking dirty because it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve done me so many favours that I can’t help but feel indebted. So, I let you use my body however you like. But it fucking hurts. _So much._ And d’you know why it hurts? ‘Cause I love you like crazy and I just _know_ you couldn’t give two shits about _my_ feelings. It’s all about you, you, and you. This, whatever it is between us, it’s not a relationship. It’s just me trying to please you. And I don’t just do it ‘cause I feel indebted. It’s part of the reason, but I also do it because I love you like a madman, did you know? I mean, I love you so much that I covered up murder for you. D’you even realise how sick that is?”

“You said we’d never talk about that again,” Harry muttered, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, shut the _fuck_ up, Harry,” Tom snarled. He grabbed his jacket from the floor, where it had been discarded earlier, and brought his phone out, probably to call a taxi.

“You think I don’t love you?” Harry asked, quietly. Tom sneered at him.

“I _know_ you don’t,” he said with finality. “You wouldn’t fuck every random Joe who asked nicely if you did. You wouldn’t use me to cover up murder if you did. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have made me accomplice to the murder of that poor man. A man _died_ , Harry. _You_ killed him. And your only concern was getting away with it.”

“He was a homeless bum, Tom,” Harry screamed. “Who even cares what happens to him? _No_ _one_ , that’s who. You would’ve never gotten into any trouble for it. I would’ve made sure of that. You _know_ I would never let anything bad happen to you. I _never_ have!” Except, Harry must have said something terribly wrong because Tom’s eyes glazed over and the tears came out in a steady stream.

“No one cares,” he said, sliding listlessly to the ground, “what happens to that man. No one fucking cares. Just like no one cared what happened to Papa. My Papa wasn’t the best man out there, y’know. He was downright terrible to anyone he didn’t care about. But he loved me like I was the sun. Even though I was born after he was raped. Did you know that? He raised a goddamn rape-child for six years. He could’ve just left me to die after my own mother abandoned me in the snow. But he didn’t. Even then, when things went wrong for him, no one cared. Everyone turned their backs on him. And then he killed himself. And no one cared. And no one’s gonna care what happens to me. I’m just like him.”

“Tom-”

“I’m never gonna be your equal,” he shrieked. “You think I don’t know how your dad looks at me? Like- like I’m some sort of dirty bug leeching off your goodwill. And you treat me like that, too.”

“What are you even-”

“You never let me forget how much I owe you,” Tom lamented. “Like earlier today. You just couldn’t stop yourself from reminding me about how we were before and how I’m only here today because of your kind heart, could you? I used to naively think that you were different, did you know? I thought you actually cared about me and that you wanted what was best for me. I thought you were an angel amongst men. How else do you think I would have fallen for you?” Harry was positively sobbing by that point and Tom was in no better shape.

“But you’re not different, Harry,” Tom mumbled. Then, more viciously: “You’re not special. You’re not an angel amongst men. You’re just like the rest of them. Looking down on me from your high horse. Poor little orphan Tom Riddle. A true charity case, that one. I’m always gonna be lower in your eyes, no matter what I do and no matter how hard I work.” Tom pursed his lips, choking on a sob. “I’m never gonna be good enough.”

Harry sat still, for a while. He tried to process everything Tom had just told him. It seemed that the man had been stewing in a lot of repressed feelings for quite a while now. Harry jumped off the bed and approached the broken young man on his floor. He wrapped Tom in his arms, hoping that he wouldn’t be pushed away. Tom put up a token resistance, pushing feebly against Harry’s chest, but soon gave up.

“We’re bad,” Harry said, running a soothing hand up and down Tom’s back. “We’re really bad for each other. I’ll admit that much, Tom. I’m a horrible person and I couldn’t give two shits about anyone else, I know that much. And I still don’t get why you’re so upset about that homeless guy. Maybe something’s inherently wrong with me. Maybe you’re right about me being the biggest asshole to ever live. And, yes. You’re right. I’m not special. I’m _not_ an angel amongst man. I’m just a normal man. Aside from all the money, that is.” Tom gave a choked, watery laugh and Harry put his lips against his hair. “But,” he said as he lifted Tom’s face and looked him square in the eye, “if you ever say that I don’t love you again, I’ll beat you to a pulp. I swear to all the gods that exist. I _love_ you and I’m so, _so_ sorry I made you feel like I didn’t. I’ll do _anything_ to win your trust back. _Anything_ you might need from me. Alright?”

“I’m tired,” Tom said, quietly. “Let’s just sleep and talk about this tomorrow.”

“M’kay,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Tom’s head. He lead them to the bed and they both kicked their shoes off, getting under the duvet. Harry opened his arms for a snuggle and Tom rolled his eyes, but came closer, nevertheless.

Somehow, Harry had a feeling that things only went uphill from there. He sighed and pushed his body up against Tom’s, who grunted, but did not move away.

***

**The next morning…**

Tom woke up, face squashed into Harry’s chest. He felt so good and peaceful from getting most of his frustrations off his chest that he almost went back to sleep, when he felt someone’s eyes on his back. He slowly rolled around, then sat up as if he’d been poked in the butt with a particularly sharp needle. Sitting on the couch across from Harry’s bed was James Potter, holding what was clearly the remains of Tom’s shirt and staring between it and Tom like he had finally managed to finish a rather hard but satisfying puzzle. Harry stirred behind Tom.

“Urgh, Tom,” Harry complained, tugging on his arm. “It’s still too early to be up Come back to bed.” James’ face split into a wide, amused grin. He seemed to be bouncing with excitement.

“Wait till I tell your mother about this,” James said aloud. Harry jumped up with a gasp.

“Dad?”

“Nah, I’m Grandpa Fleamont,” James said, grin spreading so wide, Tom was certain it must hurt.

“Oh my god…” Harry whispered.

“I _knew_ I was right about you two,” James declared, cheerfully. “Sirius is going to have a right fit. He thought there was no way. That Tom was just a little bit of fun. But not me. I just _knew_ it. The moment you introduced him, then proceeded to get his grand-parents jobs. I just _knew_ he was the one. This is simply marvelous!” Tom blinked at the man, wondering if he’d heard right.

“What. The. Fuck,” Harry whisper-asked, next to him. And Tom concurred.

“I thought you hated me,” Tom said, dazedly. James raised a confused eyebrow at him and put a hand against his chest as if to say _‘Who? Me?’_

“What gave you that idea?” he asked, sounding like a kicked puppy.

“You always look like you smelled something nasty, around me,” Tom said. James narrowed his eyes in thought.

“Ah, that must be why,” he said as he came to an epiphany. “Every time I’m around you, I can’t help but think that, one day, you’re going to steal my little boy from me. And, ooooh, how I hate you every time I think of that. It probably just shows on my face.”

“So, just to be clear,” Harry questioned, “we have your blessings?”

“Most reluctantly, yes,” James confirmed, though he looked far from reluctant with that crazy Joker smile on his face. Tom wasn’t quite sure what to do about the new information. He always laboured under the impression that James hated his guts for even being anywhere near Harry. But, it seemed that he couldn’t have been further from the truth. Maybe the world was ending today. Right. That was the only viable explanation for this madness. The world was ending. Or maybe this was a particularly cruel dream. Harry suddenly pinched him.

“OW!” Tom yelped, rubbing at the reddening spot. “What was that for?” Harry levelled him with a dazed look.

“Just making sure this isn’t a dream,” he answered.

“You pinch yourself for that, twat,” Tom grumbled. James laughed and clapped his hand like an overjoyed seal.

“Just wait till Sirius and Lily hear about this,” he gushed. “They’re going to have aneurysms. I think I’ll keep my phone ready to call 911 when I tell them.” And with that, he walk (who am I kidding? He skipped) out of the room. Tom stared after him, cold dread settling over his entire being.

“He’s already planning our wedding,” Harry said, a horrified expression on his face.

“How do you know?” Tom asked, fearing the answer.

“I caught him, a few years back,” Harry said, “with a scrapbook filled with wedding stuff. He said it was for my wedding someday. But this- this means-”

“He’s been planning _our_ wedding all this time,” Tom whispered. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Right behind you,” Harry agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Insults?


End file.
